Page:Once a Week Jul - Dec 1859.pdf/548

24, 1859.] Mr. Lorquison filled  Mr.  Selby’s  glass,  and  then rubbed his  hands,  as  one  who  has  suddenly  the prospect of  a good  social  evening  before  him.

“Yes,” continued  Mr. Selby. “This didn’t happen to  me,  mind! But talking  about  miserable nights, reminds  me  of  a case. There was  a fellow on my  uncle’s  estate — you  know  it,  Spence — at Benlea. I made friends  with  him  when  I was  a boy,  and  such  a fellow  I think  I never  met. He was a daring  fellow,  a determined  poacher — in short,  a good-for-nothing; — what  your  Scotch friends, sir,  would  call  a ‘ne’er-do-weel:   and  he went  to  the  ‘ deil   as  fast  as  he  could. His name was Tom  Clayper. We called  him  TomClaypipe, because he  always  had  one  in  his  mouth. Well, the fellow  took  a fancy  to  me,  and  taught  me some  tricks,  which  I hope  I have  forgotten. When we’re  young  we’re  not  very  choice  in  our friendships. But Tom  really  had  some  good points. I have known  him  send  a hare  secretly to a poor  widow,  who  wanted  a bit  of  something. The hare,  you  say,  cost  him  little. Perhaps he did  not  reckon  how  much  it  did  cost  him. However, from poaching  to  highway  robbery,  and  from



that to  burglary,  was  but  a step  for  Tom. He found Benlea  too  hot  for  him,  and  disappeared. I met him  ten  years  afterwards. Looking in  the paper one  day,  I saw  there  was  a trial  of  one  with many aliases,  for  feloniously  entering  a certain house — Squire Pell’s,  of  Boddington — and  stealing, &c.,  &c. Among the  list  of  aliases  stood  the name of  Clayper. He was  condemned,  and  sentenced to  transportation  for  the  term  of  his  natural life.

“The sight  of  the  poor  fellow’s  name,  and his position,  called  up  some  boyish  feelings  of mine,  and  I made  up  my  mind  to  go  and  see  him. I was able  to  procure  admission. Tom recognised me at  once,  and  held  out  his  hand. He was  never ashamed of  himself; which  was  one  characteristic he had. We talked  over  old  times. I was capable of appreciating  what  merits  Mr.  Clayper  pos- sessed, now that  I had  seen  more  of  the  world, and he  was  certainly  an  extraordinary  fellow. As I was still  young  enough  to  be  pleased  at  hearing adventures; and as  Tom,  now  that  his  career seemed closed,  was  gratified  in  relating  his,  I had  Tom’s  history  before  we  parted. Its finale  seems to have  been  this: for  Tom  was  rather  shy  of  speaking about  certain  matters — a peculiarity  I have noticed in  some  of  your  rips. He had  his  feelings of delicacy  where  women  are  concerned. A rather pretty girl  was  in  service  at  the  Squire’s — Squire Pell, I think  T told  you. To her  Tom  paid  court. He was  richer  in  presents  than  in  reputation. I fancy the  girl  gave  him  reason  to  think  she  liked him. At all  events  she  did  not  return  his  fineries. One evening,  Mr.  Tom  met  the  Colonel  in  her company — somewhere about  the  grounds. Tom assured me  that  he  passed  them  civilly; but  the next time  he  came  across  the  Colonel  he  was  surly, and managed  to  insult  him,  and  then  to  speak  his mind, winch  was  none  of  the  cleanest. The Colonel, you  must  know,  was  engaged  at  the time  to  be  married  to  Squire  Pell’s  only  daughter  —money,  but  no  beauty. So he  let  Tom  get  the best  of  him; but  from  that  day,  Tom  says,  he felt  he  had  an  enemy,  and  knew  who  that  enemy was. Wasn’t he  a coward  to  hunt  a poor  devil like  that  in  the  dark?’ said  Tom  to  me,  and declared  he  knew  the  Colonel  was  a coward,  and was  determined  to  be  revenged,  and  satisfied  of  it.